Hybrid::Returned Feelings
by Chronic Guardian
Summary: [Post Hybrid Drabbles] Sometimes it's not a matter of whether or not you asked, it's just that you were there to listen. Because giving that little bit can mean so much more in the right moment.
1. Coco, October 4th

_**Hybrid/Returned Feelings**_

]+By Chronic Guardian+[

**-Coco, October 4th-**

While Coco Atarashi was by no means a workaholic, one week off almost felt like _too_ much after all the drama of the last Game. Work was funny like that: good for distracting herself from everything else, but not necessarily good for doing on its own. Like a television set turned on for background noise: Now that it was there, it was safe to half-ignore it again.

So long as she could forget the old days, it would be alright.

Kicking her legs a little as she watched the chaos on the streets below, she hummed along to whatever was playing on the Q-Floor and tilted her head from side to side. She would go streetside in a moment, but pre-Game reception was always best from the skyline. From there, she could make sure nobody was messing with entry coordinates or pre-clustering Noise before HQ gave the "hi" sign.

Of course, the worst offender to that had been Koki's last Partner. Now that she was an Officer, Coco probably had nothing to worry about.

...Still, part of her wondered if Koki was out there today, watching from his own rooftop.

A moment later her phone went off in her cardigan pocket to signal the start of the day, and she gently slid herself off the roof's rim. The thought dropped away with the rushing winds. She held down her skirt while the sides umbrella'd and her wings stretched to help the parachute drag.

Technically she knew how to levitate, but that particular trick had kind of lost its charm around the nineties when a wave of incoming tabletop nerds made it their thing. Then everyone who wasn't part of the group thought it was lame and everyone _in_ the group called her a copycat.

Still, she used the quirk at the end to gracefully touch down on one foot and cushion her landing a teensy bit. Striking a pose for her own pleasure, she grinned and started getting back to regular business: Front end Processing, life of the party.

Most of the others liked to do it incognito, Coco loved doing it visible. Maybe part of that was Processors weren't built for combat, but she'd started the afterlife-cycle out as a Harrier so that point didn't particularly apply to her. Grumbling and attempted assassinations from other Reapers aside, rules were a lot easier to keep when people saw the ones keeping them. She'd take a few targets painted on her back if it meant less trouble at the end of the day.

Plus, if she was being honest, the attention was kind of nice. There was always that too.

But her job wasn't to be seen, it was to watch. Stuffing both hands into her cardigan's belly pockets, she pressed the Seeker pin stashed there and began stretching a scan bubble to catch the Imagination signatures of the incoming Players. Yesterday had really done a bonker on the general numbers, but one of the surviving pacts was a veteran pair from two weeks ago and she wanted to get a head start on their progress.

...Of course, they hadn't been paired with each _other_ last time, but they still had a nice boost going on with their resonance.

Maybe that was why today's mission profile called for a double action objective. Mr. Tana-kun wasn't afraid to switch stuff up as the situation called for it. That was part of what she liked about him. Most GMs put everything in place at the start of the week, and Ganabara-sama liked that, but Coco always preferred things be flexible, exciting. If the road map was already written from the get go, then where was the room for surprise?

Her hood ears twitched as an irregular trace in the Soul Stream spiked through her scan. Energy rushed through her head and a sharp buzz rattled the space between her eyes. For one second, she could feel a connection almost forming, like someone else with a scan pin was pushing up against her mental boundaries, before the presence retreated and disappeared from her consciousness.

Too bad the intruder hadn't thought to cover their trail.

It was the kind of juice average Reapers just didn't produce, let alone Players. Smirking to herself, Coco dusted off her sleeves and started after the culprit. She wouldn't engage, of course, but Mr. Tana-kun would _def_ wanna know what was up when she got back to headquarters.

She got about as far as the Shibukyu Main Store before her backend handler for the day, Suzume Tendo, gave her a buzz.

"Wrong way, Atarashi," Suzu said flatly, forcefully making the connection when she failed to pick up. "Action's back at the Scramble. Stop chasing butterflies and get back to work."

"OMG, gimme a sec, Bossy Pants," Coco grumbled. "This, like, is totez sus. Are you even reading the my feed? Besides, butterflies are like, super not my thing right now."

And probably not any time soon, either. Too many bad memories of a maniac GM with a whole collection of the things pinned through the guts. Barf. She shook her head and stuck out her tongue, hoping to get a little of the taste out of her mouth.

"I'm not getting anything."

She rolled her eyes and forced a positive smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Suzume confirmed. "Probably because the Players are back the opposite direction."

"Oh, fooie! C'mon, Sushi. Like, gimme a little cred, fam?"

"No. You're not the GM's assistant anymore. Get with the program or I'm getting Ganabara."

"Pleeease?"

She tilted her head and waited for an answer, sifting through the crowds in the meantime.

Until "in the meantime" stretched longer than ten seconds, anyway.

"Uh, hellooo? Sushi?"

Well, time to get ready to talk to Gana-Sama…

"Sushi? Sounds delish! You, like, wanna grab some?"

"EEP!" Coco jumped at the voice. It wasn't Suzu, and it _def_ wasn't coming from her phone.

It was coming from behind, and it sounded the wrong kind of familiar. Like hearing her voice coming out of an answering machine, except this time it wasn't an answering machine.

Spinning around, Coco sucked in a breath as she caught sight of the bubblegum bear cardigan she'd put on in the morning. Same blonde-violet dye job, same mint striped leggings... But not the same eyes. Something about the celeste-blue eyes looking back at her now were different from the ones she saw in her usual reflection.

It was her, but not.

"Oh, whoops! Did I like, give ya a freak attack?" the other her deflated a little. "Totez MB, lol. Here, let's start over!"

Her double twirled around, giving her skirt a cute whimsical fluff before again facing Coco and feigning surprise. "Heeey! What's up, gurl? Totes adorbs outfit! You, like, got a sec?"

Another second of stunned, expectant silence stretched between them. Coco could feel something unsaid in the greeting, like the other her was trying to pretend this was all still normal and hoping she would totally buy the act. Until she could figure out what that was, it would probably be best to go the safe route and pretend she was amused with the charade.

"...Pfff! Sorry. Like, sooo wth right now. Are you me?"

"Like, OMG! I think you might have just poked me with your sharpness? JK-Yup: It's you, but me!"  
"That's like totes amazeballs!" Coco giggled to phony Coco (Phoco?), squinching her hands into fists to rub under her chin. "Am I like, from the future?"

Phoco smirked all wise-like and proceeded to lay down some science.

"Naw, fam. You're like, an alternate timeline? Like, I'm from here, and you're from _here_, but now we're both from here!"

Coco couldn't help but notice how Phoco put her hand higher to show her original dimension before combining the two to indicate their current position. Maybe a low-key flex? Or maybe an unintentional slip. Either way, she wasn't getting a great vibe; time to press some buttons.

"Oh! Is that why you're so powerful?"  
The smirk ran away from Phoco's face and she suddenly looked a lot more like a deer in the headlights than a super-human.

"I mean, you're in the UG but I can't scan your power level," Coco explained, careful to keep her voice friendly-casual. Smugness could wait for the stories later. "So you gotta be mega powerful to mask it like that, y'know?"

Phoco only paused a second longer before nodding and opening her mouth. "Ooooh, 'kay, gotcha. So you mean, like, you're _also_ powerful enough to peek at stats."

"Uh, yeah?" Coco giggled and tried to play it off smooth. "That's a Processor's job, silly!"

"Inorite? Like, how did I forget we're Processors?"

"Yep, total whoopsie!"

They both giggled, Phoco a little harder and Coco a little more cautious.

"'Whoopsie'?"

"Uh..." Coco fumbled for words, trying to figure out what was wrong with 'whoopsie'.

"Okay, wtf, fam." Phoco went on, still sounding like she was enjoying herself. "What millennium are you from?"

"The... last one? I mean, you are too." Then, after a beat: "Unless you're seven."

"LMAO! You're, like, sooo funny?" Phoco snickered. "Nice2no we age well! Srsly, tho: maybe get with the lingo? Kinda dead inside to know there's a me out there who isn't totes on top of it."

"...What do you actually want?"

"'Scuse me?"

"I mean, I know me," Coco said. Probably not the best move to just drop the act entirely at this point, but she could literally talk herself in circles for hours if she tried. "_You_ know me. We're smarter than we look, we usually don't say what we mean, and we don't actually run on the giggles. We can be transplants, but we're total romantic homebodies once we set down roots. A person, a place? There's something out there you'd do anything for. _Anything_. So what's your deal _actually_? Who made you come here?"

"No 'who'," Phoco replied, almost sounding amused in her rejection. "More of a 'what'. But not like you'd get it, granny."

"Uh… I'm _you_, genius? Who else would get it?"

"You're different," Phoco insisted. "You're not from Shinjuku."

"I mean, we have that in this timeline, too. We're just in Shibuya," Coco shrugged and pointed north. "Shinjuku's up that way. And FYI, I was born there, thx."

"Well, sure. But now you're here. And unless 'Processor' is code for 'Composer', then we're SO not the same."

"...Composer?"

Well, magicraps and honeyshuckles. That explained a LOT. Not everything, sure, not _why_ she was here. But at least it covered the _how_.

"Uh, yah?" Phoco smiled and flipped her bangs. "Which means I, like, totes outrank you, bee-tee-dubs. But let's get real: I'm just asking me for a favor. No prob."

"I mean…" Coco fidgeted with her sleeves and shrugged, "whatcha have in mind?"

Phoco's smile turned a touch sinister. "Know where I can find Neku?"

"Uh… as in Neku Sakuraba?"

"Yeah, that kid. Any ideas?"

"Yeaaah," Coco puffed her cheeks. It made sense. She couldn't scan Sakuraba right now either, but that kind of went with the territory when someone spent their whole day under a modulator sigil.

The thing was, even knowing Sakuraba was probably just at work, that didn't necessarily mean she felt like sharing.

Looking her other self square in the eyes, she finished. "I don't think so."

"...'scuse you?"

"Sorry, lemme try again: no friggin' way," Coco retorted. "You're up to something shady, and I kinda don't do shady. If you were _supposed_ to be here, you would go talk with the actual Composer. But instead—"

"Oh, puh-_leaze_! Have you _met_ the brat running this place?" Phoco scoffed and stuck out her tongue. "Bleagh! Total kill joy..."

"Okay, so then why _do_ you need our Neku?"

"I..." Phoco grimaced and looked away. "Look, it's complicated, 'kay?"

Coco nodded. She could tell she was on to something with the whole Sakuraba subject, but she still couldn't tell why. Maybe if she just kept on the subject long enough, Phoco would drop a tell.

"...Did something happen to your Neku?"

"Huh? Oh—uh, yeah! He—"

"Too late." Coco smirked. There was the tell. She'd hit pay dirt.

"Uh… Lolwut?"

"Like I said," she shrugged and moved away. "I know us. When I asked that question you didn't look confused, or scared, or any of the things you should have looked. You looked _annoyed_. And you know what annoys me?"

Phoco's fake hurt melted into cold contempt. "When some bozo just can't take a hint."

"Yup!" Coco grinned. "Consider those hints totes untaken! So now you got two options: try and Erase me—"

"Which would be supes easy, btw."

"—and leave some suuuper incriminating evidence for everyone upstairs. 'Cuz, y'know, Processor?"

"And I'm a Composer," Phoco returned over crossed arms. "What's your point?"

Popping a pin out of her pocket, Coco held it up so her double could see. "Memorium Imprints: Processors' last line of defense. Neat, huh? Take me out while I have this bad boy equipped and my last thoughts get burned into every realgrounder around us for HQ to scan. And I don't know who they have where you're from, but you do _not_ wanna mess with this version of Shibuya."

For a second, she could see the equation processing in Phoco's eyes while the rest of her face stayed dignified. Coco's grin softened and she rubbed her cheeks as she examined the foreign expression. Was that what she looked like when she got serious?

"Fine, fine," Phoco finally exhaled and waved it off. "So what' s option two?"

Coco pur her smile back on and returned the pin to her pocket. "You walk away and this little conversation stays between us," she said. "Don't mess with my world, and I'll make sure it won't mess with you."

"Hmm..." Phoco pressed her lips into a fine line that, again, looked anything but scared.

Of course, Coco wasn't banking on intimidation, she was banking on inconvenience. If she could make it more convenient for her doppelganger to skip town than to get whatever she wanted to get out of Sakuraba, then that would be enough.

"I mean, if you _want_ to explain yourself to my boss, I'm sure he'd be happy to hear it."

Phoco rolled her eyes. "Ugh, whatevs, jerkface."

They both knew the answer to that option. Coco hated having to actually earnestly explain herself. She could make excuses all day, play the fool, pretend like none of it mattered. But once real stakes forced her into the truth corner? Yeah, no thanks. No point. No one would understand.

...No one but her Partner.

Coco kept her easy smile on and wondered how Koki would take it if she disappeared today. He was good at letting things like that roll off his back, but she'd seen him slip once or twice. Under that stupid shit-eating grin was still a human being, and while most of the populace could go to hell for all he cared, there were still one or two people he would rather didn't.

Brushing the question under the rug for now, Coco raised her eyebrows and gave a curious tilted look. "Well?"

"Yeeeah… Thx, but no thx," Phoco sighed. "Your Neku's broken anyway."

"Broken?"

"Yeah, like, missing some pieces? Totes not worth it. Guess you get to have your way. GG, Brattypants."

"Yup! GG!" Coco beamed as she caught sight of Sakuraba exiting the Shibukyu Main Store, rocking his Sunshine uniform and totally oblivious to the plot he'd just avoided. "Thanks for playing!"

Phoco snorted and faded away, probably shifting back to whatever plane of existence she'd originally come from. Coco waved, then turned back to the Scramble. With that crisis averted, it was probably a good idea to get back to work.

As if agreeing with her, her phone went off in her pocket, ringing only once before the Processor on the other end forced an answer.

"ATARASHI!" Ganabara thundered, fuzzing up as his voice pushed the digital thresholds. "What in the name Keynesian Circulation Theory are you doing ignoring the market watch I assigned you?!"

"Back in sec!" she chirped. The best way to get rid of the illustrious Windbagabara was just to wall him out with airheadedness. "Saw this total hotness heading down to Shibukyu so I totes had to check 'em out. I got pics! You wanna see?"

"I want to see _you_ doing your job down at the Scramble! Understood?"

"Oh, the Scramble?" she giggled over Ganabara's frustrated growl. "Yup, yup! Be there in like, literally no time."

It was enough to get Ganabara to hang up. Probably enough to lose her a few points, too, but she'd been stock piling the whole rest of the week so she could take that loss.

Still, the brief encounter with herself reminded her of what she was so often missing. Matching wits with herself was as exciting as it was confusing. If Phoco hadn't been a psychopath bent on totally shady Sakuraba shenanigans, maybe they could have been friends.

Ah, well.

Shrugging to herself, Coco buried the thought and hurried on her way. She could worry about it all later. For now, she had a few second week veterans to track. But that wasn't all bad.

One of them was tweeny-bopper with an entry fee just soaked in social anxieties. Maybe if she survived the week, she would want talk about it. Maybe, if Coco was really lucky, she'd listen back, too.

Smiling to herself, Coco nodded. One could only hope.

**-Author's Notes-**

Soooo, yeah, here's the extras that didn't quite make the anniversary deadline for _Hybrid_. To be honest, I'm making myself want to write about Kya and Pokoni's second Game. These stories will probably serve as the Blank Points collection, more an amalgam of snapshots than a continuous storyline, but if certain events spark enough interest then maybe we'll dive down that rabbit hole together someday.

...Just, you know, after I finish NaNoWriMo.

For this chapter, we focused on Coco, whose fanon continuity was thoroughly borked by A New Day. In the aftermath of having all my precious fan theories set ablaze, however, I ran into another fan theory that I absolutely fell in love with. The alternate Coco (here affectionately dubbed Phoco) draws direct inspiration from **ExoZadakh**'s _Long Dream –Live Remix–_. The idea of a Composer Coco (and the web of motivations surrounding certain events) is excellently explored there, and I cannot encourage you enough to go check it out. Plus, Exo handles Coco's txt talk about a hundred times better than I do, so there's also that. If you would take this as a humble bow of admiration, then all the better, but I don't think I do the character quite enough justice for it to be the SAME plane hopping Coco.

...Then again, perhaps the fewer plane hopping Cocos running around the better. I suppose it all depends on how much you buy into multi-timeline fanon theory.

Anyway, thanks for joining me once again. If _you _have some extras you'd like to see in this collection, don't forget to mention them. See you again next time for some Post-Game musings with Pokoni!

Until we meet again,

-CG


	2. Amber, July 3rd

**Hybrid/Returned Feelings [TSoS Special!]**

By Chronic Guardian

**-Amber, July 3****rd****-**

**Written for Twelve Shots of Summer: Seventh Soul, Week 3 – Persistence/Punishment**

Her breathing slowed as her ears resumed regular use and the timer flickered off of her hand. They still had ten minutes. Their Noise battle hadn't been going too badly, Hinazawa had even tagged in an extra reduction to prove she was ready for their pending mission. So why were things ending now?

For a moment, Amber Hanekoma just stood there staring off towards Towa Records. She knew why, but she asked the questions anyway. If only for a moment, it helped her process the shock. The sinking feeling in her stomach was more than just her body returning to the Realground. She tried to hang on to the moment, like a child trying to catch the wind simply by throwing her arms wide. She knew what came next, but that didn't stop her from trying to deny it.

To put it in the words of her first Partner, maybe she was just a sore loser.

A second later and she was standing in someone's way. The Realground welcomed her back with jostling of crowds and curious looks. She let it envelope her like armor and wash her downstream from her latest defeat. She used to wait around to debrief with the GM when she first started work as the Artist, but two months in and the process was getting a little looser. She still had contact with someone in the administration before Games, but they let her off easier on the endings now. Maybe they figured she wouldn't need a hand beating herself up about it.

For the most part, they were right.

_I shouldn't have pushed for performance, _she noted silently. _I should have emphasized coordinating with other pacts. Hinazawa said she spent her school time in clubs so she would have an outline to follow. She needs—_

Amber stopped herself. Hinazawa _needed_. There was no present tense for the woman now. Treating her like she was still around would only end up making things worse. Amber had tried that the first time she failed, and she was still untangling that mess in her heart a month later.

What she needed was to get her feelings out in the open before they started to rot inside her. She needed someone who understood her without too many words, someone who would let her fall apart and air out.

Taking her cellphone out of her pocket, she hit the speed dial that wasn't her Uncle.

"Amber," the answering voice had a warm surface to it, but she'd gotten used to hearing the cautious edge underneath. "Having trouble with—"

"Can we go somewhere?"

The question spilled over Rueban's greeting with a blunt, pleading earnestness. Another pang sprouted in her chest, but this one she shoved back down. Despite his own roundabout mannerisms, her first Partner said he liked her directness. She only half-believed him on the point, but she trusted him enough to treat it as true anyway.

Still, she bit her lip and gave him a moment to think. She could feel her stomach twisting, but trying to spill her guts to Rueban over the phone would just leave her frustrated. She needed a face right now, something _real_. She could wait for that.

"Can you meet me at the station?" he asked. "Or did you want to keep this in Shibuya?"

She hugged Mewt, her stuffed cat, into her abdomen. "I want to get away."

Another beat as he constructed the plan. Amber forced herself to look up and catch her bearings. Getting to the station wouldn't be too hard, but it was significantly easier to get lost in Shibuya when one didn't have Game walls blocking off the routes.

"...We'll take the next train to Ikebukuro," Rueban began again. "You should probably call your Uncle. It sounds like we'll be a while."

"Yeah… thanks."

"Certainly. Oh, and Amber?"

She caught her finger drifting towards the end call key and sighed. "...Yeah?"

"It's… nice to hear your voice again."

Her feet dragged to a stop. He always said that. Every time she came back from the Game, he said it like they hadn't talked in years. And she never knew what to say.

"Thank you for coming back," he went on. "I'll see you soon."

"...Yeah. Soon." she shook her head and forced herself to move. He didn't mean to twist the knife. He was happy for the girl who survived, that didn't mean he didn't care about the one who didn't. "See you."

She killed the connection and slipped her phone back into her pocket. Uncle wasn't one to worry, she could get in touch with him later. He was used to the fragile existence of the UG.

For now, she just needed to walk awhile and feel the emptiness.

-o-0-o-

They met at the station soon enough. Or, it felt like soon, at least. Rueban greeted her with a low bow and a cordial kiss on the hand. She wished it were a hug, but Rue was still figuring himself out when it came to physical gestures. He knew what they did in theory, it was all a matter of making them feel right.

They rode to Ikebukuro in silence, but he did hold her hand through that part. She closed her eyes and breathed to his steady pulse, slowly reacclimating to the rhythm of life. When it came time for deboarding, he held her close enough to not get lost in the crowd. Even with the summer heat, she wished the moment could have lasted longer.

Rueban must have halfway felt the resonance. Even as things opened up, he still kept her hand in his. Not as close as she wanted, but still there, still tangible.

They didn't talk about the Game as they wandered through the shopping outlets. Rueban did his best to report what she'd missed in school and Amber listened more for the sound of his voice than the details. She caught bits and pieces of names and theorems that would come up on future tests, and that was enough. Lacking as her studies may have been, she had at least gotten better at taking tests based on subconscious knowledge.

Of course, tests weren't the actual point. She just needed to hear something normal for a while, something that wasn't tied up in her secret life of Soul retrieval. She needed Rueban to remind her of life so she wouldn't drown in the despair of death.

It was also why they had chosen Ikebukuro as her Post-Game resting grounds. Unlike the other districts surrounding Shibuya, Ikebukuro didn't have a Reapers Game or even an active UG. It might have at one point, but Uncle H. was characteristically stodgy on the details whenever she asked. All that really mattered was there weren't any ghosts to haunt her here. Some parts felt a little thick with unbattled Noise, but even those didn't bother her too much. There was a certain stillness to Ikebukuro that she found calming.

At some point in their wanderings, Rueban eventually guided them to a line up of vending machines. He got a mineral water for himself, ginger soda for her, then paused for a third and gave her a questioning look.

"Strawberry cream," she answered quietly, cradling her own drink in both hands to savor the cold aluminum, "diet, if they have it."

Rueban nodded and retrieved the beverage. He would hold onto it, but her shoulders still sunk with an invisible weight as he picked it up. This was the beginning of her remembrance, resyncing her memories of the unfinished week and trying to process them in a healthy way. Even though she had suggested the ritual herself, part of her still resisted the effort.

"So," Rueban dipped his chin as if steeling himself for an incoming rain storm. Still, his fingers again interlaced with hers. "What was the name?"  
"Fiora Hinazawa," she murmured back. "She liked going by her surname, though. She said it made her feel more official."

"Official..." Rue repeated the term with a neutral expression as he mulled it over. She knew he wanted to crack a smile and treat it lightly, but he was holding back for her sake. Rueban had something of a checkered past with putting an "official" face on things. "What about hobbies, then? Any of those on the radar?"

Amber nodded and allowed herself to briefly remember the girl she had been tied to earlier that day. "She liked visiting flower gardens. Wanted to move out to the country and work in a nursery once she..." a bit of unburied grief began welling up in her throat, and she paused to swallow it. "...Once she paid off her debts. Mice, too. She liked those. Had one as a phone strap. But, like… an anime one? You know, like the electric mole."

"The electric…? Ah," he nodded. "Yes. That one is.. also supposed to be a mouse, actually. You're thinking of the rat."

"Rat?"

"Raddadda. Don't worry about it, Pakemon are like that. Anything else?"

"Well..." Amber puffed her cheeks with inhaled thoughts, then let them out in a resigned huff. "She liked pink, and kids stuff. She wanted to get matching jumpers yesterday. I think… I think she was kind of lonely. Is that…?"

"Yes, that should be good," Rueban confirmed. "It doesn't have to be much. Her family probably already set up an offering for the first part."

"She… didn't talk to her family."

"...Did she mention how she got into the Game?"

Amber tilted her head back, more so she wouldn't have to look at the faces around her than to look at the sky. "Alcohol poisoning," she said quietly. "That's what she thought, anyway. Last thing she remembered was trying to out drink some guy who owed her money."

"Sounds..."  
"Pathetic?"  
"...I was just going to go with sad," Rueban finished, running his freehand through his hair. "Certainly not a preferable end, in any case."

"No," she agreed, "it's not."

And it was Amber's fault things had stayed that way.

She didn't voice the sentiment to Rueban. They had already talked through it a few times before. Instead, she privately ruminated on the loss while her Partner guided them both through the crowds. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something good about Hinazawa. How had someone like her even made it into the UG?

The Reapers didn't actually let just anybody into the Game. During the round before this, she'd finally gotten an answer on how Processors chose candidates. Four metrics, used both for initial selection and ongoing appraisal: Inspiration, Determination, Insight, and Resourcefulness. Out of those four, there had to be something about Hinazawa that made them think she had a chance…

Leveling her gaze on one of the surrounding owl shrines, Amber gave the wooden Ikefukuro a listless look. _How was I supposed to do it? What did she need?_

_Why didn't I understand her better?_

She glanced over at Rueban as he scanned the street-side stalls and wove a path for them through the foot traffic. Rueban would have understood. Rueban could pick people apart and piece them back together in five minutes if he felt like it.

_So why didn't they make you Artist?_ she thought. _You wouldn't have let her die…_

Ahead of her Rueban slowed down and slipped her a pointed look. "You're doing it again."

"Huh?" she blinked. She couldn't hide that she was down, but she could at least make him specify which of the million shades of melancholy he had caught her in. "Doing what?"  
"You're getting that look," he sighed. "That ridiculous envious one that says you think I'm better at something."

"I mean… aren't you?"  
"Of course I am," he flipped his free hand through his bangs. "I meant something that mattered, though. I understand people in terms of how they're wrong. You know, the sort of person they should talk to _after_ they've gotten their act together. You, my dear partner, are the sort they need before that."

"But—"

"But if that were true, you wouldn't fail?"

She bit her lip and pushed a frustrated breath out her nose. He had a point when it came to earnest conversational comfort, but some people needed that tough love to push them on. "...It's not like I'm perfect," she finally muttered back, sinking her face into Mewt's head.

"Yes, but neither are they."

"What, so this was Hinazawa's fault?"

Rueban glanced around their surroundings, then guided them forward without answering.

"H-hey," she tugged back on his hand. "What are you—?"

"Someplace…" he slipped them into a photo booth she had totally missed, then spun around to face her, "...private."

She stared up into his face, waiting for a further explanation. The new confined setting felt intimate and raised maybe just a little claustrophobia in her stomach, but it was less stifling than the crowds outside. Across from her, Rueban's expression reflected back her own distress, but tempered and measured in that way that made him so different from her.

"She didn't have to win," he said over the automatic guided prompts droning out of the booth's speakers. "This isn't your fault. Not all of it, at least."

"You don't get it," she told him dully as the camera snapped. "The Reapers won't… they _can't_ put someone into the Game unless they have a chance of winning." _Snap._ "Kya told me, it's a Processor thing. If Hinazawa got in, there should have been a way. There _had _to be. And I—"

The deadness in her voice cracked as her heart finally stirred to interrupt the explanation. Hot tears stung in her eyes as she tried to blink them back. She couldn't break now. She had to at least explain how she'd failed. She had to at least do that much. She—

_Snap._

...She couldn't do this. She couldn't pretend to be strong, even if it was to defend Hinazawa. She was a worn out, washed up, _pathetic_ excuse for an Artist.

That was what Rueban didn't actually understand. Hinazawa had always done her best to follow orders and do what Amber asked her to. The woman only ever seemed to follow Amber's lead, so whatever mistake had ended up getting her erased _had_ to be Amber's fault.

Hinazawa was gone because of her.

A shiver rattled its way up her spine, as if her lungs were trying to shake her throat clear. She hiccuped a sob as her vision blurred over. The stupid photo booth was still going on in the background in oblivious honey-tones. She wished she could just disappear, drop into another one of the Grounds and just wander herself into oblivion. Maybe not here in Ikebukuro, but basically anywhere with a proper UG and they wouldn't know the difference. The sooner the Composer could get over her and find a new Artist, the better off everyone would be.

Sucking in a breath, Amber almost pulled away when Rueban pulled first. He must have seen it coming. That was so like him… always looking three steps ahead of her, always pushing on with his plan. Why did he have to be like this? Why—?

And then his arms wrapped around her, wiry but firm. She felt her chin slip over his shoulder as their bodies sandwiched her stuffed cat and his breathing guided hers back towards normal.

_Snap_.

"This isn't how things were supposed to go," he told her, jaw bobbing into her shoulder with the enunciation. She couldn't even tell what to feel at the moment, but she was at least too stunned to push him away. Judging by how his voice shook, he probably didn't really know either.

"But however much you hate yourself right now," he went on, "I care about you more than that. Whatever hurt you're feeling, scream it into me. I'll take it, because I know exactly how this goes."

Her face twisted as she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. She didn't want to be happy, to feel the moment. She didn't deserve to. "Y-you don't—"

"Yes, I do," he insisted, raising his voice to an edge. Just contentious enough to let her know he would fight her on it, but too concerned to actually sound irritated. He pulled away enough that they could face eachother. "Because I came back from our Game alone. I _failed, _okay? I've been where you've been, I've felt what you're feeling now. You had a chance then and I didn't give it to you."

Amber cycled a few breaths without a proper retort. Maybe Rueban had a point; maybe she was just too exhausted to fight him on it. She gently pushed against his chest and this time he gave her slack. Smearing a palm across her eyes, she blinked and tried to look him in the eyes.

"Why not?"

His mouth pressed together in a reluctant grimace as something like his usual guilty look wore into his face. He didn't _want_ to talk about this stuff, but that was part of how Rueban operated. Talking about failures just wasn't something he did in front of people. "Because at a certain point, it stopped being mine to give," he said at last. "Maybe part of it _was_ that I wasn't good enough."

"Maybe part of it was that I came back," she said, halfheartedly trying to take the wind out of his sails. She knew what he meant, but it was mostly spite talking at this point. Her heart still ached, and rationalizations were poison to the pity it craved.

Rueban shook his head and glanced towards the exit while the booth's automated voice tried to usher them out at their earliest convenience. "Look…" he pushed on, "if you could play for both parties with just you, what's the point in them playing in the first place? Besides..."

She let him pause while they ducked outside. Rueban collected their photo strip, probably to prevent it from being used for blackmail more than anything else. Once that was dealt with, they got a few steps further before she prodded him to continue. "Besides?"  
"Well, you've seen whatever it is that happens after Erasure," he said, not quite as firmly as before. "What's that like?"

"It's..." she frowned and stopped short. What _was _it like in the Patron's fold? The memories had been vivid when she first came back, they seemed closer to feelings now. She knew it _had_ happened, that she had met the Patron and seen beyond the veil, but it all seemed far away and fuzzy when she actually reached for it. It felt like staring into a pool she had once stood in but now couldn't see the bottom to.

"Is there anything there for someone like Hinazawa?"

"Well, _yes_, but..."

"Then why are you so hung up on this?"

She huffed the last of her anxious rage and bowed her head. "Because something is broken," she said, "and no one's blaming me for it."

For once, Rueban let her have the statement.

It was just as well, she didn't have a followup. They moved on in silence while the empty skies churned with summer and the spiritual stillness of Ikebukuro made way for faint ripples. Finishing up their business with another two stops, Rueban soon directed them back to the station to once again return them to Shibuya.

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked on the way back.

Amber held the question for a moment, watching the late afternoon sun flit through the skyline while her thoughts and feelings came back into recognizable form. Another beat to weigh the options, then she nodded.

"You… don't have to," she followed up. "You're not the one who lost her."

If Rueban had a reply to that, she didn't hear it. She didn't ask for a repeat, though. If he had taken the out, she would rather just let it happen quietly. If she brought it up, he'd make it an issue of character. And while sometimes that was what she liked about him, she just didn't have it in her system to fight any more today.

When they got back to their home district, he stayed with her. They didn't say much, but they didn't have to. All the way to setting up the small offering on the side of the road, what she needed most was someone to hold her to it, someone else who wouldn't look away. And for that, Rueban was good.

Finishing up their miniature memorial, Amber took a step back to examine their work. It probably wouldn't be remembered within a week's time by anybody else besides the newspaper archives, but to her it was important.

Rueban slipped her a sidelong look. He didn't say anything, but he didn't walk away just yet either. He waited beside her while she let the feelings and failures settle before quietly burying them away to rest. Knowing Rueban, he probably had studying he was supposed to be doing.

But then… staying with her was also his choice.

As if reading her waffling, he narrowed his eyes and offered his hand. _Keep me a while longer_, the look said, _I'm good for it._ Accepting the gift for what it was, Amber closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around his.

And as she did so, she felt something long and thin pass from his hand into hers. Cracking an eye open, she pulled away enough to see the photo strip from earlier; Predictably disastrous, but also marked with a message.

_You saved this one._

Closing her hand again she let him have his say, just as he'd let her have hers. He was right, after all. Not everything that stayed was a mistake.

She gave her former Partner a curious glance, but then settled back on the way home through Towa Records. If she'd managed that much, then maybe she wasn't a total disaster as an Artist.

**-Author's Notes-**

You know, the next one was supposed to be Pokoni, but why keep a consistent timeline of events leading away from the Game when you can do a TSoS one-shot?

This story came about for a number of reasons. I love seeing Amber settled into her role by the time _Muse_ rolls around, but I'm also not content to think the entire world has righted itself by then. The point of the Artist is not to overwrite the need for a Game, but to enhance its purpose. As such, I see there being plenty of heartbreak in her work. That isn't to say she can't have her breezier days, only that there is in fact a broodier side to Amber.

Thankfully, that's what Rueban's there for. Artist or not, Partners gotta stick together, yeah?

Anyway, it's nice to revisit these two, even if it's more for angst than fluff. Hopefully you got some enjoyment out of it too. Thanks for dropping by, and may you enjoy the rest of the [Twelve Shots of Summer] out there!

Regards,

-CG

[06-20-20]


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